Screams
by Shannon012495
Summary: This is my take on how Thorn hatched for Murtagh and some of the events leading up to it. It just popped into my head the other day. It begins while they're in the tunnels after Ajihad was killed and ends... well if you read you'll find out.


DISLAIMER: I own nothing! I swear it! NOTHING!!!

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Murtagh knew that there was something amiss the moment he, Ajihad and the Twins had set out to hunt escaped Urgals. While he trusted Ajihad, maybe more than he should have for meeting him nigh a week ago, he did not trust the Twins as far as he could throw them; they had magic on their side, whereas he and Ajihad did not, and he knew that if the Twins were to use their skills against them, they would surely fall to their power. Part of him wished that the elf- Arya -had accompanied them; she was able to use magic better than the Twins and she did not trust them anymore than himself. Plus, she was a skilled warrior, and someone he was honored to fight alongside.

Their mission was completed easily, as they found hardly any Urgals, maybe three and twenty at the most. But it was not their mission that had gone wrong, it had been their arrival back to Farthen Dûr. Urgals had attacked them; they fought but it proved to be futile, as the Urgals converged around them after destroying their human and dwarf guards, mortally wounding Ajihad and taking the Twins and himself into one of the tunnels leading underground. Everything had happened quickly, and he hadn't been able to comprehend what was really happening.

He had been immersed in darkness, yet he was moving. It finally dawned on him that he was being carried, but by what, or who, he was not certain. He could not move or speak, as his limbs felt weighted down, and his tongue thick in his mouth. The only thing he could think of was that he had been drugged, though he didn't know how.

"Have we been followed?" asked a hoarse voice to his left. Murtagh knew the voice, it was one of the Twins.

Rage bubbled inside Murtagh as he realized that the attack had been planned. Ajihad's death was intentional, and so was his capture.

"The elf-girl has followed. She runs quickly," a deep voice from above him answered. It sounded like an Urgal. He felt his flesh crawl at the realization of the creature carrying him. From what he could tell, it was the Urgal who spoke that was carrying him through the blasted tunnel.

"She will abandon her efforts when she finds the bloody clothes and us gone. Then she will return to Tronjheim to inform the Rider," began one Twin.

"They will presume us and the boy dead. Grief will consume him over the boy and render him weaker than he already is," finished the other.

_Eragon cannot afford to be any weaker_, Murtagh thought. _Ajihad's death and the façade of my death will not bode well for the Varden if Eragon succumbs to grief. Galbatorix would destroy him in mere seconds. No, no Eragon must defeat him; Galbatorix must be stopped! No, I can't doom Alagaësia._

"No…" he whispered faintly, trying to move to return to the Varden. His attempts were met without success. But they did not go unnoticed, as the Urgal carrying him felt his movements and said to the Twins, "The boy stirs!"

"Never mind it, just keep hold of him! Galbatorix has much use for him, Tkagrezh, and we must not fail him!" they hissed in unison.

What happened next, Murtagh was not sure, but the next thing he could comprehend, he was being led through a corridor. He hadn't been aware that he was walking or that he could think clearly. Finding his mind wide open, he quickly put up every mental defense he knew of. _They must have taken control somehow_, he thought.

Taking in his surroundings, he saw that one of the Twins walked on either side of him and soldiers of the Empire were in front of him and behind him. He felt an icy chill go down his spine as he realized where he was. Many times he had walked this corridor in his life, and he knew what lay at the end and behind the large oak door. He was about to face Galbatorix.

His mind raced with possibilities of escape, but none each grew steadily more insane, and less feasible. Finally, he gave up hope in escaping, and focused on guarding his mind. Galbatorix could not know the things he'd learned while with Eragon and the Varden. Even if he could not fight in combat now, he would do his best to ensure victory for the Varden, however small his efforts.

Reaching the end of the hallway, three soldiers pushed the large door open and stood aside to let Murtagh and the Twins through. No soldiers followed them into the chamber-like throne room, and none were stationed inside. At the far wall, there stood a magnificent throne of black, red and gold. Beside the throne were two pedestals, one on either side. Atop the left pedestal sat a red stone and atop the right, a green. And finally, sitting upon the throne, was the king himself.

"Your Majesty," the Twins said, bowing low. Murtagh stood silently, watching the man who had caused so much grief and strife Alagaësia. He would not bow to this man, for he was no one's servant and not loyal to this so called king.

"You have done well," replied the king. Then he spoke directly to Murtagh, "Long have you been gone from these halls, Murtagh Morzansson. I wonder, why is it you left and joined the Varden? Were my hospitalities not to your liking?"

When Murtagh did not answer, one of the Twins spoke. "Sire, the Varden's leader, Ajihad, is dead."

"As I have known. Now I dismiss you, as I have many things to speak of with the brother of Eragon Shadeslayer."

Murtagh's heart skipped a beat and he felt as if someone had rammed a shield into his stomach, knocking the breath right out of his lungs. His surprise must have shown on his face, as the king spoke once again.

"It was not in your knowledge that you were brothers? Yes, Selena was Eragon's mother and yours as well; Morzan was your father and Eragon's father. For so long you were shunned for being the son of one of the Forsworn, and now to have another share the burden. I can only imagine how the Varden will react when they find that their precious Rider is the son of Morzan, the first and last of the Forsworn.

"While the Twins tested Eragon for the Varden, they found this information and I myself found it fascinating. Eragon has no idea of your relation, though he regards you as one of his most trusted and loyal friends. You see, I had hoped for him to know and come here to Urû'baen to retrieve you, and thus I would be able to reason with the boy. Alas, he does not know, and he believes you dead. Therefore I have sent for his cousin, or shall I say _your_ cousin, Roran to be brought here in hopes that Eragon will attempt to save him."

Still shocked, Murtagh tried to process all the information he had been given. It made sense, yet it did not. Eragon was a great friend to him yes, but his brother?

"You lie to me. Eragon is not my brother!" he said defiantly. Chuckling, the king shook his head.

"Eragon Shadeslayer er onr bródir, Murtagh Morzansson," Galbatorix spoke smugly. Murtagh winced as the king spoke the ancient language, as he could not lie.

Returning to their native tongue, Galbatorix said, "You should be honored to be the elder brother of a Dragon Rider. Though I imagine that you must feel overlooked. Why should the youngest be of such importance when it is your right by birth to be instead? Look to my flanks, Murtagh, and you will see two stones. One green, the other red. However they are not stones, but the last two dragon eggs."

"Why do you tell me such things? What effect do these eggs have on me?" asked Murtagh vehemently.

"They have no effect, really. I only wish you to gaze upon their beauty. These are the last two dragon eggs in all of Alagaësia, and both are male. The last female dragon is Eragon's. The race of dragons shall die out if his beast does not mate with one of these once they hatch. And if the dragons die out, so do the Dragon Riders. Come on, dear boy, I do not wish for us to shout at each other from opposite ends of the room!"

Cautiously, Murtagh walked towards the throne. He remembered being enticed by Galbatorix's voice and offers in the past, and he was determined not to let himself be drawn in by his words.

"You once spoke with Eragon about teaching you the secrets of being a Dragon Rider. I shall teach you these secrets, Murtagh, but I wish for you to join me in exchange for the knowledge," said Galbatorix.

"I will never join you, no matter the cause," Murtagh spat, stopping mere feet from the king's throne.

"You do not even realize my plan. You see, I have a vision. It is a vision of Alagaësia flourishing with dragons and their Riders. I do not wish to eradicate the Dragon Riders, oh no. Quite the contrary, I wish to revive the time of the Riders. These eggs hold the key to doing so, but only if Eragon's dragon mates with one of them once they are hatched," explained Galbatorix, gesturing to the eggs.

"Eragon would never allow it if the dragons hatched to someone in your command, and even if he did, Saphira would sooner die and doom her race to extinction than mate with a dragon under your influence."

"Murtagh! Do not be a fool! Joining me would give you power the likes of which you were robbed of by Eragon. Can you not feel the power boy?" the king asked sharply, rising from his throne and ascending the few steps to meet Murtagh's eye. Roughly grabbing his arm, the king pulled Murtagh back up the steps only to stop in front of the red egg. "There is much power for you to gain. Enough to-"

The king's words were stopped though, when the red egg in front of them began to rock back and forth on the pedestal. A series of squeaks and tapping noises filled their ears. Rocking quicker still, the egg rolled off of the pedestal, standing silent for a few seconds before the egg's shell burst open, small fragments of the shell flying through the air. Finally, the creature who had emerged from the egg sat before them, a newly hatched dragon.

Murtagh gazed at the beast in awe. It was small, no longer then his forearm; it's scales were a deep blood red, darker than the shell of it's egg, he observed. Spikes lined it's spine from the tip of it's tail to the base of it's head. It's eyes, red as the setting sun, swept over it's surroundings. Two sharp, snow white fangs curved out of it's upper jaw and talons, also white, lined it's paws. Leathery wings sprouted from the dragon's back, the thin membranes standing out.

"And so another Rider emerges…" murmured Galbatorix. Pushing Murtagh forward, he ordered, "Receive your gedwëy ignasia, and be forever bonded with this dragon."

Still in such awe over the dragon, Murtagh reached forward with his left hand, touching the dragon's head softly. Icy hot energy raced into his hand and up his arm, burning as if he had fire in his veins. His whole body was engulfed in pain the likes of which he'd never experienced before. Hoping not to make the pain worse, he stayed still until he was able to feel his body without pain again. His left hand felt fuzzy, and he couldn't movie his fingers. Murtagh watched as the center of his palm shimmered like a diamond before forming a white oval shape. The skin itched and burned like he had been clawed by a cat. Yet, he did not retract his hand; he pet the dragon slowly and gently.

He could feel the dragon's consciousness seeping into his own and vice versa. The dragon had no real thoughts, only emotions. Murtagh could feel it's curiosity of the world around them as if it were his own inquiring mind. It felt invigorating to know that he and Eragon were equals now; from the scars they bore on their backs to their parentage to their dragons.

"Now there is no alternative."

Murtagh was released from his thoughts as he heard Galbatorix's voice say from behind him. The king wore a maniacal expression on his face, that of one corrupted by power. Strengthening the mental barriers of his mind, Murtagh also drew up defenses around his dragon's mind as well.

"There is no alternative," repeated the king. "You now serve me."

"I've told you, I won't join you! And now that I have Thorn, you cannot make me. You have no way to control me," Murtagh replied, naming his dragon. The king's thunderous laughter filled the throne room as he tossed his head back laughing.

"Mere moments ago I did not, but now I do." What the king was trying to say finally dawned on Murtagh. He was going to use Thorn against him.

_How can this be done?_ he wondered.

Still laughing, the king strode forward, pushing the newest Rider aside and picked up the newly hatched dragon by it's tail. Thorn squealed in discomfort and protest, thrashing around to try and get loose from the king's hold. Futile were his attempts as Galbatorix tightened his grip.

"What you have failed to realize is that you are connected to your dragon in many ways. You see, a newly hatched dragon must be protected and taken care of. If it is not, terrible things may befall it. At the present time, you are not protecting your dragon very well."

At first Murtagh thought he meant the fact that he had a tight grip on the baby dragon. Then the pain started. Gasping, Murtagh fell to his knees as a series of attacks were made on his mind from the inside.

_Thorn; his mind was not strong enough even with my defenses. He is a part of me and my mind, thus he can attack me from within._ Agonizing pain drilled in his head and as hard as he tried to severe the connection, he could not. He attempted to fight back, but once again he was thwarted, as the king withdrew from the dragon's mind briefly so as Murtagh only attacked Thorn's consciousness.

"With training you will make a fine Rider indeed," the king said, smiling evilly.

Staggering to his feet, Murtagh tried to slow his breathing. He felt his dragon's mind screeching for help and trying to understand what it had done to make such a fate befall it. Murtagh wished for nothing more than to comfort the beast, and assure him that he did not deserve this.

Galbatorix sensed this, and once again invaded Thorn's mind. But this time he did not attack Murtagh's mind. No, he attacked Thorn's.

Pain seared through Murtagh's skull as he once again collapsed in a heap on the stairs leading to the throne. Screams were all he heard. He could hear nothing but the screams of the dragon- his dragon -as Galbatorix attacked it both mentally and also physically by squeezing Thorn's fragile body. Reaching out with his mind, Murtagh tried to shelter the dragon within his thoughts, but he was pushed back by Galbatorix's consciousness. Finally at the height of the agony both Rider and dragon were suffering, the king spoke.

"You both serve me now," he said. Then, he spoke in the ancient language, revealing both Murtagh's true name and his dragon Thorn's. "Now you swear your loyalty to me!"

As if he could not control his tongue and the words that rolled off of it, Murtagh swore his fealty in the ancient language. And somehow, Thorn did as well. But Galbatorix did not stop his torture for nearly another hour.

When their torment was done, Galbatorix left the throne room, casting aside the dragon like a rag doll. Murtagh panted for breath as he felt Thorn's mind grow weaker still and fight to stay conscious. Slowly, Murtagh rose from the floor and then made his way to Thorn, who lay curled in a ball on the opposite side of the room. Murtagh gathered Thorn into his arms, soothing the dragon with his mind.

Looking down at his gedwëy ignasia, he thought of Eragon.

_Eragon. _

His brother.

And now his enemy.

"But not by choice. I'm sorry, brother," Murtagh murmured, holding Thorn close to his body.


End file.
